Wandering Wonderer
by roses and hello
Summary: Luna deals with life after Hogwarts, and is surprised to find Rolf Scamander far easier and less pleasant to come across than a single Crumple-Horned Snorkack. The Holyhead Harpies reach the finals.
1. Of Dragons and Muddy Patches

For K4writer02 (id: 382795)'s birthday.

(thanks to Quatre-Sama (id: 47665) for betaing. If you have a minute to spare, I highly recommend either author!)

* * *

Luna has never liked the idea of something being simply _wrong_. She knows she is lucky to have been brought up by a man who sees more than other people – a man who recognises that things hide, and sometimes require a second look, and sometimes can't be seen at all.

It is difficult, however, for her to see the reasoning behind Mrs Weasley sending Ginny to Romania to cool off, because all Romania is doing is making Ginny angrier and angrier.

It is especially difficult for her to think of Mrs Weasley as being wrong. For a moment, sometimes, when the older woman wraps her arms around Luna, Luna will shut her eyes and pretend that she is being hugged by her own mother, who has not hugged Luna for almost ten years.

She wonders if Harry does the same; Harry whose mother hardly got to hug him at all.

Harry is fortunate in other ways, though. He is, for example, fortunate enough to not have been sent with Ginny to Romania so she can "cool down a bit". Although, Ginny probably wouldn't have needed cooling down if Harry hadn't been on an Auror mission.

Luna adjusts the make-shift pillow of her travelling cloak and shoes, and turns onto her back. It isn't really very kind to be thinking of her friend like this. It is rather hard to turn her attention to anything else, unfortunately – even for Luna, who spent essays entitled 'Describe the functions of the Substantive Charm' on the breeding patterns of Crumple-Horned Snorkacks – because the heat is _unbearable_.

"I'm going to find Charlie," Ginny snaps, leaping to her feet. "This is silly. It's torture, that's what it is. He's trying to torture me, just because I told Peggy Macmillan that he fancied her, and that was years ago."

Luna is surprised to find Ginny so reasonable, and a little surprised too that the placid-seeming Charlie would fabricate a story of needing the two girls to watch a hatching dragon in a stifling room, just so he can take revenge on his little sister.

Ginny lets forth a series of expletives, sending Charlie's belongings flying every which way in the search for her wand. Luna leans back on her elbows, watching the destruction with mild curiosity, and considering for the first time the idea that maybe Mrs Weasley just wanted a few days without her hot-headed daughter.

She checks herself again, knowing it is only the heat that is making her think like this.

It is only a few minutes afterwards that Ginny's brother returns, but Ginny has managed to make the room completely unrecognisable in that time.

"_Bugger_," Charlie says, running his hands through his hair. Luna notes that this is probably the only word that Ginny left out of her string of profanities, so they now have a full collection. "Ginevra, if you don't put my boots right back down this instant, so help me-"

Ginny seems to have exhausted herself, however, and flings herself back onto Charlie's bed with a huffing noise. "If you hadn't taken my wand, this wouldn't have been necessary, _Charles_."

"Act your age, Ginny," Charlie says scornfully. "I'm a dragon-tamer, not a baby-sitter."

Luna sits up, now that it is safe to do so without fear of being hit by a missile, and wipes the sweat from her face. Part of the reason Mrs Weasley suggested Romania was to give the girls some experience with the dragon reserve. Neither girl knows what they want to do with their lives, not _really_. Ginny is toying with the idea of professional Quidditch, but Luna is (perhaps not for the first time) clueless.

She knows now that dragons are not for her. If this is how hot she has to be in order to be around a baby dragon, she's not sure she would like the temperature required for being near a fully-grown dragon.

"What breed did you say it was?"

Luna glances up, startled by the new voice.

"Longhorn," Charlie replies, closing the door and walking over to the fire. "Couldn't see any sign of the mother around, so I volunteered to hatch it. It'll hopefully be moved to the hatching rooms before it fully emerges, but a Vipertooth decided she'd rather eat her eggs than meet her babies, so those are occupied at the moment. Girls, this is Rolf Sc-"

"Nice to meet you," Rolf says, cutting over Charlie and extending his hand towards Luna. His smile is too wide, and Luna dislikes him immediately for interrupting a Weasley. She shakes his hand, but drops back down to the floor and rubs her palm along her foot afterwards, for fear of attracting mind-reading Humdingers. Daddy says they're particularly prominent in Romania and, whilst she's sure they're friendly, she doesn't want her mind being broadcast to this stranger.

Charlie gives Rolf a half-amused smile. "That's Luna, and little baby Ginny's on the bed there."

"You're so funny, Charlie," comes the muffled reply – Ginny has apparently stuffed a pillow over her face. Luna isn't too sure of the practicalities of such an action, given the already boiling room, but is sure Ginny has an extremely good reason for it.

Luna adjusts her headband (orange, to discourage Nargles from nesting in her hair) and fans her face with her hand, enjoying the very slight breeze it offers. "Ginny isn't normally like this," she informs Rolf helpfully. "She hasn't seen her boyfriend in about six months, and I think she misses him. Her mother sent us here, but it was really much colder at home... She doesn't usually wear pillows."

"Thank you, Luna," Charlie's pillow replies.

Ignoring the girls, Rolf moves to the fireplace and kneels, examining the egg. "How long have you been incubating it for?"

"Not long, just an hour or so. Longhorns take their sweet time hatching."

"Snorkacks are the same," Luna adds, nodding.

"_Snorkacks_?" Rolf asks, twisting to look at her, his dark eyes narrowing as he takes in her appearance. Words bubble to her lips about how she _knows_ profuse amounts of sweat attract all manner of Dark creatures, but she bites down on her tongue, and pushes a hand through her damp hair. "Is that a breed of dragon?"

Luna shakes her head, eager to impart some of her own knowledge. "The Crumple-Horned Snorkacks are a rare creature, most often sighted in Swe-"

She is interrupted by Rolf's loud snort. "You sound just like that prat who runs the _Quibbler_."

Luna is quite taken aback. "No, I don't."

"You do. Snorkacks, indeed. _He_'s always writing to my grandfather, trying to prove the existence of some nonsensical magical creature. Ridiculous man."

Luna swells up at this. "I don't _sound_ like my father at all," she replies haughtily, thrusting her chin forward. "He is a man in his forties, and I am approaching twenty. I think you are the ridiculous one if you cannot tell our voices apart!"

The pillow lets out a yelp of laughter, and Ginny emerges, looking entirely dishevelled.

"Quite right, Luna," she says solemnly, and Luna is glad to see her friend restored to her former good spirits. "Ridiculous, in_deed_. Now, what do you think about taking a look around this dragon reserve, since the baby-sitter has returned to take over?"

She leads Luna out of the room before either Rolf or Charlie can respond.

* * *

Romania does, to Mrs Weasley's credit, leave a profound effect on Luna. She decides she wants nothing more than to prove the existence of Crumple-Horned Snorkacks, so the next time she comes across a Rolf, he will be full of praises for her father – the one who knew it all along. It does not leave a profound effect on Ginny, but neither does Ginny feel the need to continue to wait around for Harry's return. She gets herself signed on as a reserve to the Holyhead Harpies.

Luna travels to Sweden.

It proves harder than she thinks to uncover a single Crumple-Horned Snorkack, though there is a rather nasty run-in with a Swedish Short-Snout.

Her current predicament is all down to mistaking a Hinkypunk for a Snorkack newborn, leaving her standing knee-high in mud. _Fortunately_, she was able to deal with the Hinkypunk as soon as she came to her senses, but she is hesitant to Apparate away lest she frighten any of the highly-sensitive magical creatures. She might disrupt their breeding patterns for another year, and then there would be even less of them around.

"Hey, there! Are you all right?"

Luna rolls her eyes. She needn't have bothered trying to tread so carefully; the Snorkacks are sure to have been scared off now. She neglects to respond, wading her way through the thick mud instead. One of her shoes falls off in the process, and she halts, feeling her way through to the bottom. They are her best shoes for repelling mind-reading, and she is reluctant to lose them. Daddy always tells her that sole-reading is a dangerous and commonly-practised skill, and he is surprised that Hogwarts still refuses to teach its students about its dangers, though Dumbledore once agreed to look into it.

The stranger is now striding towards her, apparently unheeded by the mud. "Can you walk?" he calls out.

Luna frowns, wedging the misplaced shoe back onto her foot. "Of course I can walk," she answers calmly. "Did you come all the way out to ask me that? You could have asked me from the grass, or waited until I got back. I won't be long."

He stops, scowling at her. "I came out here to _rescue_ you."

"That was very kind of you," says Luna airily. "I'm afraid I'm fine right now. Would you like me to let you know if I need to be rescued?"

He lets out a bark of laughter, returning to the bank. "I think I'll be okay without that, thanks."

Luna shrugs it off, slipping and sliding her way back to join him. She sits down on a tree stump, removing her shoes and wrinkling her nose as the mud starts to dry in the hot August sun. Figuring that she can use her wand now, because her intended rescuer has likely frightened off any sensitive creatures anyway, she magically cleans her shoes, deciding that her legs and skirt can wait until she returns to her hotel.

"What were you doing out there anyway?"

"Oh, I was looking for Snorkacks," Luna says, putting her shoes back on. "It's all right, I don't think you scared them off entirely. You should really try to be quieter, though."

He frowns at her, using his hand to shade his eyes from the sun. "Luna Lovegood?"

She blinks at him, a little frightened that he knows her name. "Yes?"

"You're Charlie Weasley's kid sister's friend, right?"

And then it dawns on her. Rolf.

She cannot help her shoulders tensing and her eyes narrowing – they seem to be acting of their own accord. "That's right. Lovely to see you again," she says, though the sincerity is clearly lacking in her voice. Luna is not a resentful person exactly, but being friends with Ginny appears to have taken its toll on her peaceful temperament.

"Found any Snorkacks yet?" He grins at her, and she supposes he is trying to make friends, but her mouth presses itself together and won't let her accept the offer. Eventually, the smile slides right off his face, and he shifts awkwardly. "I just got to Sweden myself. I'm not here for long, though, I'm heading out to Albania. Now that the Ministry know You-Know-Who's not around to have a vested interest in the country, they want me to assess this supposedly haunted forest."

She gives him a cold look, her eyebrows raising. "Harry thinks it's ridiculous to keep saying You-Know-Who," she informs him loftily. "It means he still has power. Harry says that what he wants is for the next generation to _not _know who, and we can help do that by treating Voldemort like any other person and calling him by his name."

Rolf looks incredulous, and he folds his arms across his chest. "I see. Now, is this the _Quibbler_'s official word on the matter?"

"No," she replies, genuinely astonished. He could probably do with having his ears cleaned out; she's quite certain that she spoke clearly. Perhaps it isn't his fault, though; perhaps his brain has become infested with Wrackspurts. "It's Harry Potter's. The Boy-Who-Lived, though he doesn't much like that either. He's my friend," she adds, though Rolf hadn't enquired.

"I guess a lot of people want to call themselves the friend of the Chosen One," Rolf says, and there is a note of hostility in his tone that even Luna can't mistake.

She can ignore it, though, and chooses to. "Probably," she responds lightly, taking out her handkerchief and brushing down the dirt on her legs. It has dried somewhat, and flakes off reasonably easily. "I don't think Harry would like them to, though."

"Doesn't like much, then, our hero?"

Luna rubs her nose, eyebrows drawing together. She decides she definitely does _not_ like Rolf.

* * *

She leaves Sweden for France, determining that it must be the wrong season for Snorkacks and instead deciding she'd quite like to see more winged horses. A note to Hagrid gets her authorisation to the Beauxbatons stables, but Rolf is there already. He says he's tracking the growth of the herd, but Luna is beginning to suspect he's trying to hinder her Snorkack progress, and wonders if they are there after all.

He hinders her very well; she stays in France three months and cannot find any trace of a Snorkack. They must have returned to Sweden.

She does manage to compile extensive records on the Abraxans, which she sends off to the Ministry in the hope of softening the Department for the Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures up so they will fund her next Snorkack expedition.

After that, she has no choice but to return home, but it means she is back for Christmas. Daddy is delighted. He is always very conscious of that one Christmas they spent apart, when she had been in the Malfoy Manor. He quite outdoes himself this year, and the Lovegood house simply seems to glow. Dirigible plums hang from gold-coloured string, streamers float from room to room, singing baubles bounce up and down on the tree, and bursts of confetti erupt at intervals from thin air.

On Christmas Eve, somebody knocks at the door, causing it to let out a rousing chorus of 'Deck the Halls'. Luna slips down to answer it, cutting the door off before it can suggest where the visitors can stick their holly.

"Sorry, that's the fourth time it's been asked to sing that today, and I think it's getting tired of it," she says, pulling open the door to find herself speaking to Rolf. "Oh."

"Merry Christmas, Luna," he says, his cheeks pink with cold and his breath visible in the frigid winter air.

Much as she dislikes Rolf, she cannot leave him to the mercy of Nargles, who thrive in cold weather and delight in stealing breath. "Merry Christmas. Would you like to come in?"

He nods, and she stands back to let him past. "Luna, I-"

Daddy interrupts him, coming into the hallway to see who their visitor is. He is wearing his most recent incarnation of Rowena Ravenclaw's diadem, and Luna is pleased to note they will finally have the chance to prove Rolf wrong.

She excuses herself, offering to bring Gurdyroot tea, leaving Xeno to occupy Rolf. Luna smiles at this, thinking that Daddy couldn't have picked a better topic to right Rolf's opinion of him. Daddy really is very well informed on the subject of Wrackspurts.

"… oh, yes, Christmas is a very dangerous time of year. Wonderful, yes, wonderful indeed, because everybody is so much more open to new ideas, but very dangerous. It is especially important to watch out for Nargles around Christmas; they tend to favour hiding in mistletoe, but will not hesitate to disguise themselves in any of your decorations if given the chance! Ah, thank you, Luna, that's magnificent."

Rolf is rubbing his temples; a clear sign that he is trying to take the knowledge in. Luna feels a bit sorry for him, much as she dislikes him, since it is rather a lot to deal with, after all. "I'll be sure to stay alert, thanks, Mr Lovegood." He looks at Luna rather nervously; possibly he doesn't understand that they have undertaken measures to expel Nargles from their home. As she opens her mouth to explain, though, he speaks. "I was wondering if I could talk to Luna alone – if that's all right with you."

Xeno leaves agreeably, with the parting comment that he is happy to share their recipe for Gurdyroot tea.

"Luna. I – I work for the Department for the Regulation and Care of Magical Creatures, and…" He blows out his cheeks, looking down at his hands. "They were very impressed by your report, and would like to invite you along on my next excursion."

"Oh," she manages, flopping into one of their seats. "How long is it for?"

He shrugs, following her example and sitting down. A rogue streamer appears to have taken a fancy to him, and is winding itself around his legs, cat-like. "Not sure. The Albanian forest is a bit more of an undertaking than I first anticipated, and I need assistance."

She tilts her head, considering. She can feel the Dirigible Plums encouraging her to keep an open mind, and thinks what a good idea of Daddy's it was to hang them around the living room. Pretty and practical in one. "Okay."

"Okay as in you'll think about it, or okay as in you'd like to come?"

"Both," she says decisively, draining her teacup. "You haven't had any of your tea!"

Rolf gives the cup a guilty glance, and gulps it down – which is silly, because he won't really be able to taste it.

"Did you want to stay for dinner?"

His face lights up, but he shakes his head, setting the cup down. "No, thanks, Luna. I'd better be off. Granddad's expecting me back."

* * *

Rolf refuses to allow her to wander off on her own, and he makes so much noise that the Crumple-Horned Snorkacks all run away before Rolf and Luna can sneak up on them.

Despite this, she finds she doesn't mind travelling with him, and then she finds that she isn't lonely anymore. She realises that she has been a little bit lonely for quite a long time.

It is impossible to be feel alone, when she can lie on her back for hours, examining the changing sky through the network of leaves above, and all he does is pick leaves out of her hair and hand her a blanket when it starts to get cold.

Later, Rolf tells her that he couldn't do without her, as they crouch down, examining a nest of Dugbogs. She smiles and quietly tells him how ridiculous he is.

* * *

It is April before they have completed a full evaluation of the "haunted" Albanian forest, and they will need to return in a few months to reassess it in summer. For now, though, they are free to go back to Britain.

They hand in their reports to the Ministry, and Luna laughs and comments on how odd it is to be stepping on a ground that doesn't crunch underfoot. She claims she doesn't know how she'll be able to cope with four solid walls and a noiseless night.

Really, it will be strange to be without Rolf, but she isn't sure he wants to hear that. He has his hands shoved in his pockets, and he looks like he wants nothing more than to be by himself.

Luna falters, reaching up and taking her wand from behind her ear. "Goodbye, Rolf. You're welcome to – to visit, if you would like. I could make you Freshwater Plimpy soup. We're quite famous for it."

He half-smiles. "Yeah, maybe."

She wonders if she could threaten to set Harry Potter on him. It is something that worked quite well for Ginny in her seventh year, when anybody was unpleasant to her. She doesn't think it would make Rolf any nicer, though, and nice is all she wants him to be.

She wants a proper goodbye, and so she envelopes him in a tight hug. He tenses, but then she feels his arms wrap around her.

"Are you cross with me for leaving?" Luna asks, tilting her head up. "It's all right if you are. Ginny is always cross at Harry for leaving."

Rolf shakes his head, untangling himself from her. "No, Luna, I'm not. I'm going to miss you, that's all."

"You have a strange way of showing it," she informs him. "Most people are nice to the people they miss."

This prompts a grin from him. "You're right," he replies. "I do apologise." He sweeps her back into the hug, and drops a kiss on the top of her head. "Goodbye, Luna-my-Luna. See you soon."

* * *

(Luna-my-Luna line thieved/adapted from L.M. Montgomery's _Rilla of Ingleside_)


	2. Of Anniversaries and Dirigible Plums

Xenophilius Lovegood has never made himself a particularly popular figure in the Wizarding World. You could never be entirely sure when he was going to accuse your family of harbouring nests of Nifflers, awaiting your chance to seize Gringotts from goblin control because you didn't agree with their tea break allocations.

Appearing in _The Quibbler_ holds none of the thrill of appearing in _The Daily Prophet_... until Harry Potter makes it obvious which newspaper he prefers.

So, when Xeno announces the tenth anniversary of _The Quibbler_, people scramble for invitations, hoping for a chance to be near the Golden Boy, and pretending _The Quibbler_ hasn't already been in print for at least thirteen or fourteen years.

Luna contemplates that this might be the very best party ever. Daddy has purchased hundreds of balloons, each of which sings a different song over and over, which Luna knows people will like, because this way, there is a song for everybody. Other balloons explode in midair, showering guests with confetti that she's sure they will be able to remove later on.

The guests seem to be entering into the spirit of things; Luna has already seen a few guests pretend to be knocked off their feet by the streamers zipping around, and even heard them continue the charade by complaining about it. At this rate, she doubts anyone will mind that the 'cake' is entirely comprised of past _Quibbler_ issues.

She drifts off to talk to Ginny and Harry, the latter of whom is apparently some sort of magnet for the singing balloons - they surround him, forming a bizarre-looking, discordant halo.

"All right, Luna?" Harry asks, batting one of the balloons away. It is wholly ineffective; not only does the balloon return, but it brings a partner.

Ginny scowls, aiming her wand at the new arrival. It bursts, with the sound of a cannon-blast, but thankfully stops singing.

The rest of the balloons scatter immediately, and Ginny sticks her wand in her back pocket, looking satisfied.

"Thanks, Gin," Harry says, grinning. "Very useful."

"Oh, there's nothing I can't get rid of, especially now Ron's started working with George, and can't seem to stop himself testing out new products on me. I swear, I'm a day away from a permanent Bat-Bogey Hex. The only thing stopping me is the thought of my future nieces and nephews."

"Do it," Harry says grimly. "I haven't been able to remove my glasses for a week and a half."

"Daddy has some potions you can try out," Luna offers generously. "People are always sending things through the post that stick to Daddy. It's very unfortunate. Sometimes people send rubbish by accident. I often wonder how they feel when they discover they've sent the wrong thing. They're usually too embarrassed to send apologies."

Neither of them reply, and Luna notices Ginny's eyes fixing on a point behind her and widening, which is the only warning she has before she turns and catches sight of-

Rolf.

"Hey, Luna."

Luna sets her jaw, and wishes the balloons were back, so she could have reasonably pretended not to have heard him. Perhaps he will assume Wrackspurts have blocked up her ears.

Ginny mercifully answers for her, cutting across the silence before it has a chance to get awkward. "Aren't you Rolf Scamander? I'm Charlie-"

"Weasley's sister," Rolf finishes with a smile, folding his arms across his chest. "Nice to see you again."

"This is Harry."

Luna has witnessed Ginny introducing Harry many times, and discovered that every time she introduces him as Harry Potter, it seems to grant access to thousands of unwanted questions. This way, giving the illusion of intimacy with the saviour of wizardkind, without the acknowledgement that this is _the_ Harry Potter, is usually far more effective.

Rolf raises one of his eyebrows ever-so-slightly, and Luna – who spent months with him as her only companion – is probably the only one to discern a change in facial expression. He extends his hand, and says, "Good to meet you, Harry."

"Have you seen my brother lately?" Ginny asks curiously, darting a look at Luna.

"Not lately," he answers, running a hand through his hair. "Listen, Lu-"

"Young man," intones a voice from behind him. "Please, explain how I have ended up at a party being held by none other than _Xenophilius Lovegood_. Preferably whilst you are arranging for our immediate departure."

Rolf flushes pink, and turns around, taking a step back, which inadvertently places him right beside Luna.

The voice belongs to an elderly wizard, who does not appear to have noticed that his loud tones have attracted the attention of more than one partygoer – and even of Xeno himself.

"Newton! Newton – I didn't think my letters were getting through to you anymore!" Xeno calls, hurrying across the room in a cloud of luminous green. "I can't tell you how much-"

Five feet from Newton, Xeno is thrown back in a burst of red light.

Luna exclaims loudly, fearing an Umgubular Slashkilter has snuck in unnoticed, but Xeno has scrambled to his feet before she can get further than three paces. "Not to worry, Newton, all my fault. All my fault. Slipped my mind, that's all. Don't fret, I'm not intending on breaking any rules. I know the limits."

Newton does not look especially comforted. "Not a problem," he says in a clipped tone. "Unfortunately, we can't stay long. I was just telling my grandson that we've been called out to Sweden. Something about Crumple-Horned Snorkacks."

Xeno's expression is purely blissful. "Oh, of course, Newton, of course. Perhaps I might-"

"Top secret, obviously, Xenophilius. Wouldn't want the papers getting hold of such a thing. Might scare off the backers, if you know what I mean."

_The Quibbler_'s editor falters, but then nods vigorously.

Looking pleased that things have gone his way, Newton nods to Rolf. "Shall we be off, then?"

Rolf shifts his weight from foot to foot, shooting Luna a covert glance. "Actually, Granddad-" Luna starts. Granddad. Of course. "–I haven't quite finished. There's some Ministry matters that I need to discuss privately with Miss Lovegood."

Both Xeno and Newton's eyes land on Luna at the same time, and she shrinks back.

"I can see why you chose to bring these Ministry matters of yours to a party," Newton observes coolly. "I'll be waiting for you at home, Rolf. Don't forget, mind. Crumple-Horned Snorkacks. In fact-" He peers at Rolf, and then turns on Xeno. "Dear me, Xeno. The boy has clearly been infested with Wracklesplinters. Did you not put up any protection? He looks quite vacant."

Xeno looks a little like he might burst into tears. "I might have something," he mutters distractedly, before disappearing off into the crowd.

"That was unkind," Luna informs Newton calmly, taking a step closer, and finding herself able to get closer to the writer than her father.

Newton, she discovers, has the same guilty expression as his grandson. "My apologies, dear girl. Your father tends to be a little effusive in his praise for my works. I find a gentle suggestion that I am paying attention to his findings most successful."

"My father is not a child, Mister Scamander," Luna says determinedly, thrusting her chin forward. She is quite aware that Rolf will probably side with his grandfather, and she will not only lose him, but his Ministry contacts too. "There is no need to humour him if you do not have the benefit of a mind as open as his."

As she turns on her heel and exits, she hears Newton's comment. "With a mind as open as his, it's a wonder only his common sense has fallen out so far."

* * *

Luna sinks down onto the grass outside, watching the hall's windows flash various colours. It must have rained at some point; the grass is damp, but not unpleasantly so.

The noise from the remaining balloons thankfully has not travelled outside. She brings her knees up to her chest, and wraps her arms tightly around her legs.

"Mind if I join you?"

She shakes her head, knowing without checking that it is Rolf.

He sits next to her, stretching his legs out over the grass. "Nice night. If it stays this quiet, we might get to see some Mooncalves. I hear they're popular in Devon."

Luna offers him a weak smile. "I don't mind if you want to go and collect their dung by yourself."

"Ouch," Rolf replied good-naturedly, leaning back on his elbows. "I think that might be the most unkind thing you've ever said, young lady."

Luna shrugs, tugging at a handful of grass. "Maybe," she replies vaguely. "I don't often say unkind things. I usually try to avoid it."

"I know. I'm, er, sorry about Granddad. He's not normally – well. I obviously didn't think he'd be like _that_, or I would have ensured he stayed at home."

"Why was he here?" asks Luna, her voice uncharacteristically sharp. "Why are _you_ here?"

He avoids her eyes, glancing over at the trees that form the perimeter of the nearby park. "Can't I visit my friends every so often?"

It has been three years since Hogwarts, and still the word friend makes her glow in the same way it did when Ginny first started calling her that. She is quiet, contemplative, and considers how effective her new Dirigible Plum pendant must be.

Rolf sighs. "All right, Luna, you win." She stares at him, unable to ascertain what sort of game they have been playing. "Look, I didn't answer your letters because – oh, I don't know. You're so young."

"I'm old enough to receive letters," she blurts out, alarmed.

He pulls a face at her. "Very funny, Luna-my-" He clears his throat. "I was the one who requested your training be with McGilligan. I thought if I didn't see you, I'd stop thinking about you."

It starts raining then, the drops cool on her skin, and Luna wonders whether the weather has been listening to them. She unfolds her legs, placing her hands behind her on the grass and leaning back on them. When Rolf asks if she'd like to go somewhere drier, she shakes her head.

"It's not that bad yet," she answers, though she is aware that the earth is becoming wetter beneath her hands. "It's – nice. It reminds me of Albania."

"In Albania," Rolf says, conjuring a rain-free bubble around himself, "we had tents. Dry tents."

Luna shakes her head at him, sending a few droplets scattering with the movement. "I don't think your grandfather would be very impressed if he heard you talking like that."

Rolf grins back, and she has forgotten how much she likes to see him smile. "I think you made a bad enough impression for the two of us, Luna, d- don't you?"

"Depends if he's met Harry Potter yet," Luna says lightly, tracing a pattern in the mud. "I find people often think better of me if they discover I'm Harry Potter's friend."

Rolf is quiet for a moment, but then he smirks. "You'll find a similar thing happens when people discover you're friends with me."

Luna shifts forward onto her knees, getting mud down the front of her robes to complement the back, so she can look him directly in the eye. She can't tell where his rain barrier begins, and isn't sure if it will allow her any closer – but she is not interested in finding out. She has had enough of Lovegoods being barred from Scamanders for one day.

"Hmm."

He looks more wide-eyed and innocent than she has ever seen him, and she notices he is keeping very still. He reminds her a little of a wild animal trying to figure out who she is and what her next move will be.

Luna's mouth twitches, almost betraying a smile, and she says thoughtfully, "I think your grandfather may have been right."

"About what?"

"Wrackspurts. I think you might have been infected. Maybe we'd better get you inside after all."

Rolf turns his head away, and she sees that beads of rain have settled themselves in his hair. After a minute, he rises – when did he remove the bubble? – and offers her a hand.

"Did it work?"

"Did what work?" he asks, his voice a little rough as he helps her to her feet.

"Your plan. Did you manage to stop thinking about me?"

He looks her up and down, mud-covered robes to soggy hair, his eyes resting on the Dirigible Plum necklace.

"We should go inside," he says instead, wrapping an arm around her shoulders and steering her towards the hall. "Your father will be wondering where you are."


	3. Of Journals and Harpies

_The Bowtruckles we observed seemed content to_-

Luna yawns widely, struggling to focus on the words on the page.

"Dry report?" McGilligan asks cheerfully, planting a mug in front of her.

Still not sure of her place in this office, Luna shakes her head, fixing her eyes on the drink. "I couldn't sleep last night," she answers. Couldn't sleep, because Daddy had her up on a Snorkack hunt, though she has learned not to mention Daddy's expeditions at the Ministry. The Ministry do not hold Daddy in a particularly high regard, because they need to see things to believe them. Sometimes, Luna suspects they are beginning to win her round to their way of thinking. But that might be the amount of brain-addling creatures employed by the Ministry to prevent people seeing the sort of things the Ministry is really up to.

"Ah, yes. I'm not surprised; the moon was bright last night. If only your father had named you Solar, then I might have had your full attention today, eh?"

Luna smiles politely in response, having endured puns on her name ever since meeting McGilligan. She supposes it makes a change from 'Loony'.

"Anyway, never mind that. I've found some more interesting work for you to do, if you'd like?"

Eagerly, Luna nods, but her excitement is misplaced, for McGilligan's instance that she learn the tricks of the trade before going out on more expeditions continues. He places a journal on her desk, one filled with comments from somebody who isn't stuck indoors for their future benefit.

"Rolf Scamander," announces McGilligan, but Luna already knows that from his handwriting. "Read it, write it up – for Merlin's sake, make sense of the boy's scribbles. I'm convinced half his reputation is based off the fact that nobody can read what he writes."

Luna's cheeks are flushing hot and cold as she flicks through the book. Thankfully, her supervisor is unaware, and leaves with a smile.

Rolf would make a good writer, she decides, curling up in her chair. His observations are interesting, and he has a knack of describing things in a way that almost has Kappas manifesting themselves in her office. She should see if she can get him to do a piece for Daddy – though his grandfather probably wouldn't approve. Rolf may not approve either, she reflects glumly, pursing her lips.

She is halfway through a section on Re'em poachers, when a noise behind her makes her start. She whips around, wand in hand and heart in mouth, half-expecting to have mentally transported the poachers to her office, but all she finds is-

"Harry!"

Harry grins at her – or, rather, at her brandished wand, which she promptly sticks behind her ear. He looks dreadful; hair sticking up at all angles (though that, she supposes, is nothing out of the ordinary), and robes torn and muddied.

"Just came off a case," he says, running his fingers through his hair, and pulling out twigs. "I thought we might not finish in time, and it went right down to the wire."

"What wire?" Luna asks, carefully marking her page in Rolf's journal, before closing the book.

Harry fishes his wand out from his Muggle jeans underneath his robes. "Figure of speech, Luna. Don't worry about it. So, do you have the tickets?"

Ginny's Quidditch team had reached the British and Irish League final. Not wanting her to be too disappointed if he couldn't make it last-minute, Harry told her straight out that he'd be tied up with the Aurors, and arranged for Luna to get him a ticket instead, figuring she was better able to keep a secret than one of Ginny's brothers. If he couldn't make it, he reasoned, Luna could bring her father, and Ginny would be none the wiser.

It was not, as it turned out, a particularly brilliant plan, and Harry wound up sleeping at Ron's the night before he was due to leave.

"Of course. You'll need a change of clothes, though. Don't worry, I've got just the thing," Luna says, beaming.

He does still look rather concerned, but perhaps that is just a hangover from being with the Aurors. The expression vanishes instantly once they have Apparated back to her house, and he catches sight of what she has in mind.

"No."

"I know they look a bit ridiculous now, but not when we reach the stadium," Luna says practically, tossing his at him. "Everybody wears them."

"People who go every week wear them," Harry corrects her. "Everybody else wears what they like – and I'd rather be like everybody else."

That's Harry's problem, really, Luna thinks as she shrugs at him. They don't have time for him to stall, much less for him to find something else to wear. Besides, this is the perfect way for Harry Potter not to stick out like a sore thumb.

Or, so she thinks. When they turn up at the game, they attract a surprising amount of jeers. Probably fans of the opposite team – some of whom, she notes, have turned up dressed as wasps. Well, that is hardly less embarrassing than being dressed as a harpy.

The sight doesn't seem to cheer Harry up any, though perhaps that has something to do with the fact that Dean and Seamus have shown up, and are currently weeping with laughter. It is difficult for Luna to pretend they can be laughing at anything but the costumes. Out of the corner of her eye, she sees Harry readjust his feathery headdress uncomfortably.

Sitting with Dean and Seamus is not the pleasant experience she thought it would be when Dean first suggested it. True, they are all cheering Ginny on, but in between times, Dean and Seamus devote themselves to winding Harry up about his outfit, until Harry cracks and hexes them, promising darkly that they'll find out what he's done _later_.

It works wonders, and the two boys content themselves with casting slurs on the opposition rather than their fellow supporters.

"Oi, Harding – my nan could have hit that harder!"

"Give it up, Johnson, you couldn't find the Snitch if you choked on it!"

This last comment appears to be of particular amusement to Harry, though perhaps he's just trying to make up for whatever spell he cast on them. Luna leaps to her feet as a figure in dark green robes bolts for the Wasps's posts. The area around them erupts as Ginny scores.

"Beautifully weighted throw, mate," Dean tells Harry enthusiastically, as though Harry had been responsible for it.

The scores mount up quickly after that, and the lead changes hands several times.

"This one's all going to hinge on the Snitch," Seamus notes wisely, "and half the time, that Powell would have trouble catching a cold."

Luna hugs herself, aware that her voice is beginning to fade as the hours drift by.

The match ends abruptly; at one moment, the Harpies' Seeker is dodging a Bludger, the next, she is punching the air in victory, her hand clamped around a small golden ball. The stadium quietens for a second, making the subsequent noise explosion seem even louder, and Georgie Powell is engulfed by her team-mates.

"Knew she had it in her!" Seamus exclaims, and Luna's mouth quirks in an amused smile. It has almost been like old times, watching Gryffindor play – only with Harry in the stands.

They sit and wait for the crowds to disperse, as the Harpies are receiving their trophy on the pitch, and the Wimbourne Wasps are standing by, arguing amongst themselves. Harry drums his fingers on his knees impatiently.

"Thank you for the ticket, Luna," he says, noticing her looking his way. "I just hope I can catch Ginny before she apparates home."

"She won't go immediately," Luna informs him, adjusting her feathered cloak. "All the Weasleys are here. Molly asked me if I wanted the ticket they got you this morning." In response to his guilty expression, she pats his knee. "Don't worry. I told them that Nargles like to nest at the top of Quidditch stands. She believed me, even though everyone knows-"

"Nargles like a quiet life," Harry continues, nodding sagely. "Look, the crowd's letting up. We can go wait outside the players' rooms for her; that's probably where the Weasleys are."

Dean and Seamus follow them down, declaring their desire to congratulate Ginny, but Luna suspects it has rather more to do with the other six members of her team.

The Weasleys have come _en force_ to the game, and it isn't till Luna sees the expressions on their faces that she recalls the harpy costumes. Ron demands how much Harry got paid, and George asks if he lost a bet, and then Bill wants to know if Harry's seen a _mirror._ It all stops when Harry, turning a bright red that he fails to hide despite pulling the beak-shaped hat down as low as it will go, flicks a glance at Luna.

Dean slips his arm around Luna's shoulders, and gives her a comforting squeeze. They've been close ever since they wound up at Shell Cottage together, and Dean often checks she isn't getting too lost in magical creatures at the expense of human companionship. "Never mind them, you make a great harpy," he tells her, with a grin. "And Harry's never looked so fetching."

"I heard that, Thomas," Harry informs him, having discarded the hat at last.

"Has she come out yet?"

George rolls his eyes, and turns to his newly arrived brother. "Yes, Charlie. That's why we're all standing around like mugs. Because she's already come out."

Luna tenses, because it's Charlie, and she hasn't seen him since she first met Rolf. And all of a sudden, Charlie's companion is standing right in front of her, and she half feels like she might have summoned him through her thoughts.

Rolf's eyes linger on Dean's arm around her, and suddenly, smoothly, Dean pulls away to pay his respects to the emerging Harpy Beater – Gertie, or something of the sort.

"I've been reading about you," she manages, her mouth oddly dry, and she realises that the problem with wearing Dirigible Plum pendants in crowds is that there are too many thoughts around. That must be her problem; too many thoughts fighting for attention, so she can't simply pluck one out and focus on it.

"McGilligan told me," he answers. "I was in the office today. Luna, what _are_ you wearing?"

She tries not to react to his being in the office and not visiting her, though cannot help the corners of her mouth turning down. She is beginning to feel ridiculous now, and her cheeks aren't just heating up from the warmth of the day. "I'm a harpy."

"I see," Rolf replies, moving so he can lean against the wall. "I'm more of an Arrows fan myself. We'dve been playing the Harpies today if the Wasps hadn't been cheating scum in the semi. Bloody pests."

"Good job you're not still bitter," Charlie smirks. "I never would have given you Harry's ticket if I thought you'd be shouting for the other side, anyway."

Ginny chooses that moment to emerge, and Luna watches her reaction to her boyfriend's presence affectionately, feeling a happy glow steal through her.

"Luna? Can we go somewhere and – talk?"

Whilst this is far from the _last_ thing she wants to do right now, Luna experiences a pang of regret as she takes one final look, seeing Ginny taking Harry's beaked hat from him. Nevertheless, she nods at Rolf, and finds herself being tugged away by her hand

He stops when they're a reasonable distance away, tucked behind a now-closed food stall, out of sight and hearing of the Weasleys. She finds her breath shortening, and isn't wholly sure it's down to the brisk walk.

Rolf looks ever the same – perhaps a little more tired than before. Luna has forgotten how much taller he is than her; she does her best to straighten up so he doesn't need to stoop so much.

"So – how've you been?"

Luna frowns at him, rolling the sleeves of her feathered cloak up. It really is getting to be unbearably hot – why hadn't she thought to bring a change of clothes for after the game? "Fine. The Weasleys are allowed to know I've been fine as well, though."

He shifts uncomfortably; perhaps he is too hot also. Or perhaps, as she is beginning to suspect, he has no real reason for stealing her away.

"You got my journal, then?"

Idly, she fiddles with one of her earrings – talon-shaped, to complete her harpy costume. She hadn't made Harry copy _that_ part. "Of course."

"You're not making this easy, Luna."

She eyes him critically, because, really, she is trying to make this as easy as possible. "What is it you want to say?"

For a moment, he looks like a lost boy; then, he blows out his cheeks. "Right. I'm going away. For quite a long time, I think, if everything works out. I'm only going to be in England another month."

Luna is quiet whilst she digests it. "You want me to finish interpreting your journal as soon as I can?"

"No – no, that wasn't what I meant at all. I want – I need you to come with me. Please. I'll make it educational for you; it should be good experience, and I know McGilligan won't let you out of the office for another few months unless somebody requests you specifically. So, I'm requesting you. Specifically."

"You put me with McGilligan in the first place," Luna says slowly. "Did you want me to be stuck in the office?"

Rolf looks pained. "No – and yes. McGilligan's a good trainer, I knew he'd give you a good grounding."

"You can't control my career like this, Rolf," Luna protests, all the frustration at having been stuck indoors all spring suddenly bubbling over. "They hired me because I gave them good research – research I picked up myself. Nobody will ever take me seriously if you're constantly fiddling." She pauses, and rearranges her sleeves which have already slipped past her elbows. "It's not fair that you get so much off the back of your grandfather."

He is staring at her, speechless, as Ginny's face appears round the side of the stall. "Oho! So this is where you snuck off to. No wonder Dean's not been having any luck with you, then, Luna!"

Unable to process this, Luna pushes past her friend, mumbling about going home. She hesitates, and looks back at Rolf, who looks as though she has Stunned him. "I hope you have a nice trip."

* * *

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